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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424611">The Draco Malfoy Tales</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalfoyBlake/pseuds/MalfoyBlake'>MalfoyBlake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, First Time, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealousy, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Most characters are alive, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Party Games, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, Smut, Top Harry Potter, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalfoyBlake/pseuds/MalfoyBlake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is in love with Harry Potter. Ask him, and he'd deny it. Well, that was the case if your name wasn't Pansy Parkinson. There's just one tiny problem, Harry Potter doesn't seem to love him back. But don't worry... Pansy has a plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hogwarts was so<em> fucking</em> absmayl in the autumn.</p><p>With each and every season that graced the castle came a display of pure excellency. Summer comes in her own time, drifting in on a spring wind, wakening with the kind of warmth that flows to the core. Between the paving stones comes blooms so bold and tall, giving off their aroma to the now summer-infused breeze. For these seeds of humble size and hue are the ninjas of the botanical world, born to shout loud of their graffiti-petaled beauty.</p><p>The winter is such crystalline joy, those brilliant rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake. Where puddles become transient skating rinks, when the sunniest of days ignites a chill where one can see their breath rise as neat and pure vapour. It is the days of quiet poetry forming in souls as if it calls to the spring flowers that will soon blossom.</p><p>The spring, she comes to give her bounty to all her children. She sends her rain and warm wind to kiss the rich brown soils, to waken the seeds and sing to them as they grow. She blesses the skies with more of our winged brethren, from the mighty eagle to the firefly. The flowers come, each one so much more than any photograph, delicate and strong. And in this time of newness we fill our lungs to fullness and hear her urging us to run, to <em>feel</em> the power she gives within.</p><p>But autumn, the <em>fucking</em> autumn arrives with a buoyant lack of subtly. There are browns that come as a comforting quilt to the earth, yet the rest are the hues of volcanoes, of firework sparks and festival hoopla. Nature calls out to spring, and the trees can’t help but become as flowers, towering blossoms of flamed foliage to dance into the skies before tumbling as giant confetti to the sidewalks and verges.</p><p>Winter is melancholic for many, the trees once full lay bare, the creatures of earth deep in hibernation. Everything’s dead.</p><p>But in the autumn, you watch powerlessly as life slowly succumbs to an inevitable death. Draco hates it. The flowers falter, the grass turns grey, as the world preps for its eventual demise. At least in the winter, the worst is over, but in the autumn it’s yet to come. You’re trapped watching the life drain from the earths eyes, and there’s nothing one can do to prevent it.</p><p>And that’s why Draco hated autumn, for him it brought nothing but painful memories and death.</p><p>Hogwarts appeared dead as well.</p><p>Grades, assignments, and practical’s were rare, and even if they were assigned they seemed of unimportance. Still, Draco worked at it, spending endless nights in the library studying because we weren’t all Ravenclaws.</p><p>The war had changed many things, bigotries and prejudices were abolished. Those who fought for the wrong side were forgiven, but their actions were not forgotten. They weren’t treated as outcasts as such but weren’t exactly deemed to be of significance either. The above didn’t much matter to Draco, he pretended that he wasn’t there anyhow.</p><p>Presently, Draco was sitting on the ledge of a raised window in the newly acquainted eighth year common room. He watched the wind dance in the nights sky softly as he waited. He was alone. He was <em>always</em> alone. Well, for now anyways.</p><p>Soon enough, there was a loud bang as the common room door slammed open. Draco took a deep breath before climbing down from the ledge, what or who he’d been waiting for had arrived.</p><p>He no more than sprinted to the door as a large weight landed safely in his protective warmth. Draco felt his heart swell as he walked briskly, but carefully towards the dorms.</p><p>‘Mmm you smell nice,’ a tired voice murmured, as a large hand threaded through his perfectly styled hair and Draco tried not to become irritable. ‘<em>And</em> you have nice hair. Pat. Pat. Pat.’ </p><p>Draco growled as he persisted to drag the exhausted body through the room, ‘if you’d be so kind as to remove your grubby hands from my hair Potter, that would be <em>much</em> appreciated,’ he told him firmly, and the hands all but disappeared. </p><p>‘You’re no fun.’ Potter whined as he started to wiggle out of his grip, Draco just held on tighter, ‘lemme go. I haft to go’ he slurred out.</p><p>‘And where might that be?’</p><p>Potter gave him a confused look, eyes wide as he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t remember’ he said with a goofy grin. ‘Ah! I don’t remember. I <em>want</em> to remember. Make me remember.’ He ordered Draco slightly more panicked now.</p><p>Draco sighed, as he threaded a calming hand through black curls, he knew exactly what to do. He always did. ‘You said that you wanted to go to your dorm’ Draco told the baffled boy gently.</p><p>‘I did?’</p><p>He couldn’t help but smile at Potter’s innocence, before nodding. ‘Yes, you did,’ he assured him as the dorm came into sight.</p><p>‘That makes sense.’ Potter mumbled tiredly as Draco made it to the dorm, placing Potter carefully on his bed. He got to work, removing Potter’s shoes and glasses, before pulling the covers safely over him.</p><p>Draco took a deep breath, gently brushing a stubborn curl from Potter’s face as his thumb traced over his scar delicately. To many the scar represented victory and power, for Draco it symbolised all things Potter. Everything that was <em>Harry</em>.</p><p>With on last flick, Draco stood up and made his way out of the dorm. ‘Nighty night,’ Potter’s sleepy voice whispered, and Draco couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.</p><p>‘Goodnight Potter.’ He muttered softly, before taking one last fond look at the sleeping figure, then shutting the door with a small tap.</p><p>‘Again?’ a knowing voice asked. Startled, Draco turned around before giving them a small nod of acknowledgement as he made his way back to the common room.</p><p>Exhausted, Draco sat down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa, as he allowed himself to rest.</p><p>Pansy followed suit, sprawling herself across that very sofa, resting her head in his lap. Draco brought a shaking hand out, threading it through her hair as he toyed with it mindlessly.</p><p>‘Draco, you can’t keep doing this.’ She told him firmly, but lightly.</p><p>‘Doing what?’</p><p>She took a deep breath before answering, ‘waiting here for Potter every night, as he comes back drunk off his face.’</p><p>‘Someone has to do it,’ he mumbled in his defence, already knowing that it was a weak answer.</p><p>Pansy shook her head carefully as she sighed, ‘maybe,’ she told him softly, ‘but that someone doesn’t have to be you.’</p><p>Draco held his chin up high in defiance, ‘if not me, who?’ he challenged her, a frustrated edge to his tone.</p><p>‘I don’t know. His <em>friends</em> maybe?’ she spat out sarcastically.</p><p>‘When they too are so drunk they can barely stand?’ he uttered out, ‘they’re not in the right state of mind to protect him. They can’t keep him safe.’ He told her. The <em>like I can</em> left unsaid.</p><p>‘I heard he fucked Smith tonight.’ She stated and Draco’s blood ran cold.</p><p>‘He didn’t – and <em>fucking</em> stop’ he snarled bitterly. He knew exactly what she was doing, of what she was trying to get him to do. She made the same move each night.</p><p>‘I don’t know Draco. The rumours seem pretty feasible. I can imagine it now, one or two shots of firewhiskey too many. Music pumping in his hears, making him all hot and heavy. Who’s to say that a slut like Potter did fuck—</p><p>‘He didn’t.’ Draco spat for the second time as he felt tears start to prick his eyes. </p><p>He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine Potter drunk in a club, grinding and frotting up against anything and everything with a pulse. The guise of alcohol clawing and chipping away at conscious morals. Want and need coursing through his veins as he pulls the nearest randy person in for a long dirty kiss.</p><p>Pansy sighed in defeat, ‘you really love him, don’t you?’</p><p>Draco didn’t say anything, as he felt a single tear escape from his grasp and roll innocently down his cheek.</p><p><em>He really did</em>. </p><p>*</p><p>There was a very simple answer to his current predicament, he would just not<em> think</em> about Harry Potter.</p><p>He glanced down at his Slytherin tie, only to be reminded that Potter was in fact a Gryffindor. And if he looked closely at the sliver strands and green swirls, he could see a hint of red and gold flickering within them. He sneaked a peak at his flamboyant robes to tell himself that he should really pull on something more comfortable, only to be reminded that Potter, too, wore robes.</p><p>As he stared at a guilt ridden Weasley, his mind drifted to the flock of Weasley’s that had graced Hogwarts halls, then back onto <em>him</em>. Whenever he heart the Fat Lady’s squawk—</p><p>Wait... a guilt ridden Weasley?</p><p>‘I didn’t do anything.’ Weasley said quickly, as he suck a piece of chicken behind his back.</p><p>‘That piece of chicken between your teeth says otherwise.’</p><p>‘I don’t have to answer to <em>you</em>, Malfoy.’ The Ginger-haired menace spat, and Draco was tired. He just wanted a sandwich.</p><p>Draco ignored him, swarming the kitchen in hopes of finding a late night, or should he say early morning snack. Tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce, and ham. Delicious! He grabbed a freakishly long knife and began. </p><p>A loud clatter stopped him in his tracks as he set the knife down with a clank. He watched in delight as Weasley sauntered over to the sink and pulled out a paper towel. Then proceeding to scrub off all evidence that linked him to the scene of the crime.</p><p>‘You do realise that you’re a wizard.’ Draco chimed in, figuring that he could no longer bare to watch this hideous display of idiocy.</p><p>Weasley looked at him dumbfounded, ‘of course I do you git. What’s it to you?’</p><p>Draco shrugged, ‘call me imbecilic, but wouldn’t a cleaning charm be a far more efficient way to rid yourself from that unseemly grease?’ he asked.</p><p>Weasley looked as if he were considering for a moment before he let out a dramatic sigh. ‘That’s <em>bullshit</em> Malfoy,’ he said with his whole chest and Draco glared. ‘If any more nosey bastards like yourself come poking in here, who do you think they’ll blame for the chicken crime if they pick up on my magical signature?’</p><p>‘Chicken crime?’ Draco echoed in disbelief.</p><p>‘You used to be smart Malfoy. Use your bloody head, yeah?’ he told him.</p><p>Weasley carried on, ‘The muggle way of cleaning leaves no evidence, it’s good for covering up a chicken crime. And since I’m sure the house elves won’t be happy when they find out I’ve started on tomorrow’s dinner, I think this crime needs some muggle cleaning.’ He declared proudly.</p><p>Draco shook his head, ‘there’s so many things wrong with that statement,’</p><p>‘Like what?’</p><p>‘Well, for starters, I didn’t just used to be smart. I <em>am</em> smart,’ he huffed out in annoyance. ‘Secondly, I knew you were a buffoon but I hadn’t realised it was to such an extent,’ he chastised.</p><p>‘Tell me Weasley,’ he picked up his somewhat finished sandwich before walking closer towards him. ‘what were you planning on doing with the paper towel?’</p><p>He shrugged, ‘throw it in the bin or something.’</p><p>Draco’s lips curled into a victorious smile, ‘that’s exactly what I hoped you would say.’ He declared triumphantly. </p><p>Once a brainless Gryffindor, always a brainless Gryffindor, his father would say and Draco was inclined to believe him.</p><p>‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Weasley accused.</p><p>Draco huffed out in annoyance, ‘it <em>means</em> that you’re prepared to throw out a paper towel laced with evidence at the scene of the crime.’</p><p>‘But my magical signature isn’t on there.’ He pointed out defiantly.</p><p>‘That may be. But your DNA is all over the towel.’ He tutted, as he walked even closer towards Weasley.</p><p>‘What the<em> fuck</em> is DNA?’</p><p>Draco sighed, attempting to rid his tone from any amusement, ‘I have no idea,’ he said honestly. ‘Apparently it’s what muggles have instead of a magical signature. But because merlin hates us, we have it to.’</p><p>He’d heard all about this DNA a while back from Pansy. She had and still has this crazy obsession with this obscene element called science. Draco had promise not to utter a word about it to anyone. He <em>may</em> have told Blaise…</p><p>Weasley looked fearfully at the paper towel before shooting Draco a somewhat thankful nod. He shrugged before making his way towards the door, when a low cough stopped him in his tracks.</p><p>‘Catch,’ Weasley said as a green apple flew across the room and into his waiting hand. ‘I know they’re your favourite. I heard it from a… friend.’</p><p>‘Why would you give this to me?’ Draco asked sceptically.</p><p>Weasley gave him what Draco thought was a smirk. He couldn’t much tell. It looked ghastly. ‘You helped me hide the evidence,’ he told him intently, before shaking his head. ‘And you made a sandwich the muggle way.’</p><p>Draco looked down at his masterpiece. The bread was all different sizes, the butter barely coating each one. The ham and lettuce hardly fit between the two slabs. The tomato was sprawled out messily atop of the bread. And where the fuck was the cucumber? Some may call it a disaster, Draco called it progress.</p><p>He smiled slightly, ‘yes, I guess I did,’ he replied softly before making his way back to his dorm.</p><p>That night Draco tried his best to not think about Potter. But if his dreams were full of curly black hair, and emerald green eyes, then that was nobody’s business but his own.</p><p>*</p><p>The issue was that Harry Potter was <em>everywhere</em>.</p><p>Figuratively that was.</p><p>If Draco thought about dinner, then images of dessert would slither into his mind, next came the waft of treacle tart, and before he knew it Potter had made an appearance. If he saw a glimpse of Granger, he’d think about her absmayl potions skills, do you know who else has absmayl potion making skills? Potter.</p><p>Even now in an abandoned corridor, which what he considered to be his sanctuary, Potter still lived in Draco’s head. </p><p>Sometimes, <em>just</em> sometimes he’d wonder what it would be like to be Harry Potter’s friend. Did Weasley ever joke into his ear: some being funny, some being ludicrous, and some being downright stupid. But maybe, just maybe Draco wished that he were the one to make Potter’s eyes light up, a colossal grin spreading across his face.</p><p>But he wasn’t. He <em>never</em> would be. Because things just didn’t work like that. Potter was the Saviour of the Wizarding World, people bowed at his feet. He was all perfection and laughs, and Draco, well… he was nothing but a choice he had made long ago. He gulped as he pulled on his sleeve, covering the Dark Mark further.</p><p>So, you see, Draco could never be the person that Potter wanted him to be. The person that Potter deserved. Because he was still a walking ghost of his past, a victim chained to the demons that lay restlessly in his head, and Potter was<em> free</em>.</p><p>A few minutes of caught up in his own head, and Draco decided that he needed to pick up the pace, he was going to be late for his class. He kept his head down, as he collided with something firm and tall. The impact sending him stomach-first to the ground, his books sprawled beneath him.</p><p>‘Sorry Malfoy,’ Potter told him sheepishly as he offered out a hand, one that Draco took. Because <em>of course</em> Potter was here. He decided to ignore the annoying fluttering that threatened to burst.</p><p>‘That’s quite alright,’ Draco muttered dismissively, as he bent down to gather his possessions. He was pleasantly surprised to see Potter crouch down to help him.</p><p>He lay the books gently in Draco’s welcoming arms as he gave him a small smile, ‘did I see you last night?’ he asked. ‘I could’ve sworn we’d interacted.’</p><p>‘No. It may be a revelation to you Potter, but I find that my time is better spent without unseemly large quantities of alcohol.’</p><p>‘Now, <em>that</em> was uncalled for,’ he gave Draco another smile that he was so used to seeing, before he quirked a brow, ‘a simple <em>no</em> would’ve sufficed.’</p><p>His heart sunk. And that is why any form of relationship wouldn’t work between the two of them. It was very simple really; Potter just didn’t get him. Draco was mean, he was snarky and sarcastic, and Potter didn’t understand that. Draco didn’t even think that he liked that.</p><p>And maybe, <em>just</em> maybe if given the chance, Draco would treat Potter like he was the only person in the room. He’d go to all his stupid quidditch matches, all big smiles and encouraging banners. He’d hold him close whenever he had a nightmare, mumbling gently that he was here and he’d wasn’t going anywhere. He’d try and fail to bake Potter his favourite dessert, but Potter wouldn’t mind no, he’d love Draco even more for trying.</p><p>But that would never happen.</p><p>Draco tried to not let that though affect him as he gave Potter a pointed look, ‘perhaps you should rethink the whole getting drunk of your face thing.’</p><p>Potter scoffed, ‘and do what?’</p><p>‘You could read in front of the fire in the common room.’</p><p>‘What? You mean just like you do?’ he asked and Draco flushed. Did this mean that Potter knew his nightly plans?</p><p>Potter took a step closer towards him, and Draco’s heart started to beat rapidly. ‘Are you suggesting that I do that also… with you?’</p><p>Draco could feel his head starting to spin, as he took a step back, in an attempt to gather himself.</p><p>‘No. I figure that your pretty content to remain a drunk idiot,’ he told him before walking away.</p><p>Draco dwelled over the entire interaction for the rest of the day: playing different scenarios in his head over and over again in an endless loops. When Potter had said, ‘sorry Malfoy,’  he could’ve just nodded before continuing on his merry little way. A nod would’ve been <em>perfect</em>. The small gesture held so many unspoken words: that’s alright, I forgive you, <em>fuck off</em> Potter. He should’ve done that.</p><p>But he hadn’t.</p><p>No, Draco had replied, and by doing that he’d opened up a can of worms. Now, they’d had a conversation. A <em>conversation</em>! The late-night exchanges they had, were nothing compared to this. Potter never remembered those. But this he would remember. He would look back on their small interaction and think… ‘Malfoy is a right jerk.’</p><p>And when Potter had implied that Draco wanted them to spend their nights together. What the <em>fuck</em> was that? If Draco were a braver man he would’ve said ‘yes.’ Potter would’ve either smiled or laughed in his face. But at least he’d done something. He would have given it his best shot, and if it all blew up in his face well… at least Draco would know.</p><p>He was a coward. He was living proof of a cowardly Slytherin. He wished he weren’t. He wanted to be brave, bold, courageous. But he wasn’t. And he <em>never</em> would be.</p><p>Of course, Pansy thought the entire exchange was ridiculous.</p><p>‘You really are an idiot,’ she told him as she shoved a piece of chicken into her fat gob.</p><p>Against his better judgement, he smiled at that as he remembered his early morning interaction with Weasley. If Draco were an idiot, then what the <em>fuck</em> was that red-headed tool?</p><p>‘And what do you propose I should’ve done?” He really didn’t know why he told her anything. She laughed at him every time.</p><p>‘I don’t know,’ she rubbed her chin thoughtfully, ‘maybe you could have answered with a simple<em> yes</em>?’ she deadpanned.</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>Pansy let out an annoyed huff, ‘I don’t know <em>what</em> to do with you Draco Lucius Malfoy,’</p><p>He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off, ‘No, no. It’s my turn to speak. You’ll have yours once you’ve earnt it.’ She told him smugly, and Draco could just strangle her.</p><p>She carried on, ‘It’s disgustingly obvious that you want to fuck him, you drool at the mention of his name,’ she narrowed her eyes at him, ‘you’re <em>fucking</em> doing it now!’</p><p>‘I’m not drooling, and I don’t want to fuck Potter,’ he spat out just a little too loudly.</p><p>‘Really?’ she raised an amused brow, ‘because the drool on your chin and the boner in your lap says differently,’ Pansy declared triumphantly.</p><p>Draco ignored her in favour of cutting up a small piece of chicken and popping it carefully in his mouth. Merlin, it was good!</p><p>‘What do you want Draco?’ she asked him.</p><p>‘To finish my fucking chicken in peace,’ he told her and she glared. Draco sighed, ‘and maybe I want to know why he notices everyone but me.’ He admitted.</p><p>She shrugged, ‘he doesn’t acknowledge me much either.’</p><p>‘You still talk to him because of those stupid eighth year parties,’ he simply stated.</p><p>Pansy smiled, ‘they’re <em>not</em> stupid,’ she chastised, ‘and then it’s decided. You’ll be coming to one of those stupid parties tomorrow.’</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>‘Oh, do shut up Draco. If you don’t come, you’ll just be sitting up alone in your dorm waiting for Potter to walk in completely incoherent so you can put him to bed.’ </p><p>He kept his mouth firmly shut. He couldn’t argue with that, it was the truth after all. Draco would be waiting for Potter. He would always wait for Potter. That thought scared him more than he’d like to admit.</p><p>‘You <em>do</em> want to talk to him, don’t you?’ She questioned knowingly.</p><p>He nodded mutely.</p><p>She beamed, ‘then that’s final, you’re coming.’ She informed him happily, and he sighed, there was no point in fighting a losing battle.</p><p>Draco sat back in his seat as he watched his friend gobble down the remains of her food. He pushed his half-full plate to the side; he wasn’t all that hungry anymore.</p><p>Tomorrow he’d be attending a party. He hadn’t been to one of those since the war had ended. The Slytherin’s used to pull off huge blockbusters every Saturday, they still did as far as he knew. He’d always attend, he’d been the life of the party. Giggling, laughing drunkenly, kissing anything that moved. That used to be his life.</p><p>Then the war had happened. And with it came change, one Draco had adapted to. He could no longer be Draco Lucius Malfoy, Slytherin Prince no, he was <em>just</em> Draco. He’d vowed that he would never set foot in a party-like scene as long as he was still in Hogwarts. But that had changed. Now, he was going to a party. He’d broken his rule for Potter.</p><p>He was convinced that he would do anything for Potter at this point. He’d go to the ends of the earth just to see a genuine smile upon his face. He’d abstain from his title, just so that he could be with him. Draco would fight for him, kill for him, fight <em>with</em> him.</p><p>So, was that love? He was pretty sure that it was.</p><p>Draco had always felt such feelings for Potter. No one could tell him differently. He remembered the first time that he’d heard the name Harry Potter. He’d been in the drawing room back at the manor, painting a picture of his family, when he’d overheard his father speak about a boy that had survived an AK. A boy that was his own age. Draco had known then and there that he wanted to be friends with Harry Potter.</p><p>The picture had turned into one of him and Potter holding hands and smiling, it mirrored ever other picture that Draco had drawn up until he was eleven.</p><p>Even after Potter had rejected his hand in their first year, Draco had found a way to <em>always</em> be around him. He had taunted him, spat at him, and laughed at him, but the only thing that had remained constant was his obsession over Harry Potter. Back then, his naïve self had passed it off as hatred, Draco knew better now.</p><p>No, it wasn’t hate, for the only emotion it could be was love. He wanted to hold hands with him as they walked the crowded halls. He wanted to utter a joke that made him laugh. He wanted to be the reason that Potter smiled. He wanted to be the last thing he thought about each night, and the first name on his lips every morning. He wanted to cuddle, kiss, and touch Potter. He wanted it<em> all</em>.</p><p>That didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted to<em> fuck</em> Potter, no, he was quite content to submerge himself in his studies.</p><p>His studies would never make him sad. His studies would listen, and only listen. His studies wouldn’t fight with or laugh at him. His studies wouldn’t fuck anything and everything that moved. His studies wouldn’t break his heart…</p><p>So, Draco was pretty happy to be alone. To not care all that much. Because caring… caring got you hurt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is cereal soup?<br/>Enjoy ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, and Draco hadn’t slept a wink. Somehow, Pansy’s insistent words had taken refuge in his mind, seeping into his dreams. He said dreams – they were more like <em>nightmares</em>. He’d be drifting off, moments from a tranquil sleep, then <em>bam</em> Pansy. He’d be deep in sleep, heavily submerged in his unconscious, then<em> boom</em> Pansy. He’d even be tossing and turning, aware of every little sound in the room, then <em>crack</em>… <em>chicken</em>?</p><p>Perhaps dreaming about chicken wasn’t the<em> healthiest</em>, but it was fucking better than Pansy’s defiant glare. Plus, at least he wasn’t dreaming about Potter. The green-eyed Saviour had only made two appearances. <em>Two</em>! Draco called that progress.</p><p>So, he hadn’t forgotten, but he’d convinced himself that it was going to be alright. He was going to walk into the common room, his head held high, greet his peers, and sit down. He’d be wearing a drop-dead <em>gorgeous</em> outfit that many would preen over. His hair would be styled perfectly, a genuine smile upon his face. They’d all laugh and joke till the moon went down and the sun came up. And maybe, <em>just</em> maybe Potter and he would have a pleasant conversation.</p><p>It would be <em>perfect</em>.</p><p>Except, Draco wouldn’t do that. He didn’t have Potter’s courage. No, he was currently grimacing at his reflection, his oldest and most worn robes clung to his skin. His hair was a mess upon his head, his smile non-existent.</p><p>He was a fool. He couldn’t do this.</p><p>He wouldn’t think about Potter. He wouldn’t go to the party. Draco belonged in his own bed, a book in hand, waiting patiently for Potter to need his help.</p><p>‘What the <em>fuck</em> are you wearing?’ Pansy’s voice had startled him. She was leaning against the doorframe in his dorm, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.</p><p>‘Whatever do you mean?’ he asked her, feigning innocence, whilst secretly praying that she’d deem him a lost cause and permit him to slither out of their plans.</p><p>She tutted before walking towards him with determination, ‘your crap won’t work on me Draco,’ she told him firmly, as she started to pull at his robes.</p><p>‘<em>What</em> are you doing?’ he asked her alarmed.</p><p>She scowled, a dangerously cheery edge to her tone, ‘Stop acting like such a baby. It’s <em>nothing</em> I haven’t seen before.’ Pansy told him and he cringed, not wanting to think about their <em>earlier</em> relations for a second longer.</p><p>‘I’m not going,’ he crossed his arms in defiance, and Pansy glared.</p><p>‘Don’t be so <em>dramatic</em> Draco. <em>Of course</em>, you’re going, I’ve brought reinforcements,’ she gestured to the heap of what appeared to be muggle clothing resting in her grasp.</p><p>He didn’t do anything apart from take a deep breath and look into her eyes in challenge. Pansy smirked before her eyes daringly bore into his own. This carried on for a long while, his eyes started to water, hers began to falter. His cheeks grew red, she looked positively green.</p><p>Draco blinked.</p><p>Thus, Draco had ended up pressed into a crisp white shirt, smothered in tight black skinny jeans, his hair messy in a naturalistic kind of way, and a scowl plastered onto his lips. He looked good; he <em>knew</em> he looked good. But it didn’t all that much matter because no one would notice him. A bit like how one would notice a tree in passing, it was acknowledged, but no one stopped to touch it.</p><p>The lights were bright, he hadn’t even considered that the common room would be full – there was barely any room to navigate. The music was an incoherent beat, scarring his ears, he had half a mind to down a shot – or two. </p><p>Tracing the edges of his forearm nervously, his fingers grazing over the snake, he went about cutting through the crowd Pansy in tow, hoping for a glimpse of Potter.</p><p>He didn’t see him, but he did happen upon a few raunchy teens and thought it a bit too much for an eighth-year common room party.</p><p>‘We’re going to be drinking a <em>shit</em> load of alcohol tonight!’ Pansy declared excitedly from beside him and he cringed.</p><p>‘I can detest to that.’</p><p>She glared at him, ‘you agreed to come to the party,’ she told him matter-of-factly.</p><p>‘Agreeing doesn’t mean consenting to inhale <em>such</em> vulgarities,’ he answered her with distain, spitting the words out as if they were poison.</p><p>He <em>still</em> couldn’t find Potter. Perhaps, this was the first night that Potter hadn’t gone out drinking. Maybe, <em>just</em> maybe he’d taken Draco’s advice and stayed in to read a book. How bloody <em>typical</em> would that be if it were true?</p><p>Absently, he followed Pansy towards the drinks table, watching her mindlessly as she poured them a few shots. Would it be cowardly just to turn back now? To collapse into the safety of his bed and wish the world away?</p><p>He was fooling himself, wasn’t he? Even <em>if</em> Potter did make an appearance, he wouldn’t look twice at Draco. No, Potter was friends with everyone. He was charming, funny, accepting, and the world just gravitated towards him. Why on earth would he talk to Draco of <em>all</em> people, when he had the whole of Hogwarts wrapped around his little finger?</p><p>Draco should just save himself the trouble, he should mumble a flimsy excuse to Pansy and be done with it. The heartache wasn’t worth it, he didn’t even think his heart could take it. He’d been stuck between caring too little and caring too much for a long time, and now… <em>now</em> it was time he chose the latter.</p><p>Lost in thought, Draco brought the shot glass to his lips, before downing it in one large <em>gulp</em>. Immediately, he started to cough, as his throat started to burn, his stomach swimming with unease. What had he just done?</p><p>He rounded on Pansy, shooting her a sharp glare, ‘you sneaky little minx!’</p><p>She laughed, grinning triumphantly from ear to ear, ‘you’re <em>so</em> much more manageable when you’re thinking about Potter, Draco darling.’</p><p>‘You tricked me,’ he accused.</p><p>Pansy shook her head lightly before downing another shot, ‘no, you tricked yourself. I simply gave you a <em>push</em> in the right direction,’ she told him smugly.</p><p>Draco ignored her, ‘I was<em> not</em> thinking about Potter,’ he said as an afterthought. </p><p>His friend sighed, before lifting up a hand and patting him gently on the back. ‘Oh Draco, you’re <em>always</em> thinking about Potter.’</p><p>‘So, what if I was?’ he snapped at her.</p><p>‘Then you should know that Potter doesn’t usually turn up to these things until well after ten o’clock,’ she told him knowingly.</p><p>He let out a long-defeated breath, ‘am I <em>that</em> transparent?’ he asked miserably. </p><p>‘You’re <em>always</em> transparent when it comes to Potter,’ she answered, and all it managed to do was make him feel worse.</p><p>The music turned understated and slow, and Draco was certain that it had changed to match his mood. From the corner of his eye he saw Hannah Abbot rest her head on Longbottom’s shoulder, as he pulled her in closer. The act was so miniscule, but its meaning was large.</p><p>That one act uttered many words: Are you okay? I’ll protect you; I <em>love</em> you. Draco felt dizzy, <em>he</em> wanted someone to wrap their arms protectively around him, as if they were the only two people in the room. He wanted to feel safe, secure, and loved. And he <em>wanted</em> to feel that with Potter. <em>Of course</em>, he did, who was he kidding?</p><p>‘Look who it is,’ Pansy gestured to Weasley and Granger sitting comfortably on the sofa, whilst a group of eighth years danced drunkenly around them. ‘Why don’t we go and greet them.’</p><p>He huffed, ‘And why the <em>fuck</em> would we do that?’</p><p>‘<em>Maybe</em> because you want to get into Potter’s pants and the way to do it is playing nicey nice with his best friends.’</p><p>‘You’re disgusting.’ </p><p>‘Perhaps,’ she gave him a mischievous smirk, ‘but soon Potter’s pants will be yours’ she told him and Draco’s eyes widened. He <em>knew</em> that look. Before he had the chance to stop her she shouted, ‘Weasley, Granger!’ stalking determinedly towards them.</p><p>Draco growled before following her lead, they’d already seen him anyhow. Leaving would be far too obvious at this point. He felt his insides twist uncomfortably as he neared the couple, he’d plan Pansy’s unfortunate murder later.</p><p>‘Malfoy?’ Weasley asked.</p><p>He had known Weasley long enough to know that this was not his usual idiotic bafflement, no, Weasley was genuinely surprised to see him. Well, that made two of them.</p><p>‘I must be drunk because Draco <em>sodding</em> Malfoy is not here at a bloody eighth year party. The world <em>must</em> be coming to an end,’ Weasley carried on sarcastically, and Draco wanted to castrate him.</p><p>‘Yes, yes Weasley the world is coming to an end,’ he mumbled out distractedly, ‘Granger,’ he sent a curt not her way.</p><p>She sent him a small smile, ‘Malfoy,’ she returned before snuggling deeper into Weasley’s warmth. ‘This one tells me that you helped him cover up a chicken crime.’</p><p>‘Chicken crime?’ Pansy echoed in disbelief.</p><p>Draco felt his face heat up and Weasley’s eyes widened, as he quickly put a hand to Granger’s mouth. ‘Shhhh,’ he whispered frantically, his eyes darting around the room, ‘someone could be<em> listening</em>.’</p><p>Granger rolled her eyes fondly, ‘I doubt that such a crime serves to be of any importance,’ she told him smugly.</p><p>‘The investigation could be pending as we speak, Malfoy and I could be going away for a <em>very</em> long time.’ He said with an ounce of paranoia.</p><p>He coughed at this, shaking his head slightly, ‘I’m sorry, but did you just say <em>Malfoy</em> and I?’</p><p>Weasley nodded, ‘you really<em> are</em> daft Malfoy,’ he bit out and Draco narrowed his eyes at him. ‘I may have committed the crime, but<em> you</em> helped me cover it up, making you now an accessory.’ He declared proudly.</p><p>‘And what if I say I had nothing to do with it?’ Draco raised a brow challengingly.</p><p>The ginger-haired git untangled his arms from Granger’s waist, before leaning in dangerously, ‘if <em>I</em> go down, <em>you</em> go down with me,’ he promised before retreating back to his former position.</p><p>Well then, that settles it, Draco was<em> now</em> an accessory in a chicken crime. He may have escaped Azkaban once, but he was sure to see the inside of a prison cell sometime soon.</p><p>‘I’m not even going to <em>pretend</em> that’s not barmy,’ Pansy said and Granger nodded. ‘Anyways, where’s Potter?’ she asked casually and Draco’s blood froze.</p><p>Granger shrugged, ‘I’m not too sure. He normally walks around a bit before coming, I like to imagine that he’s thinking about homework, but with Harry you can never be too certain.’ She told them.</p><p>‘Well, I hope he turns up soon. You know Draco hasn’t stopped going on about Potter—</p><p>‘Excuse me,’ Draco quickly interrupted, shooting Pansy a death glare, ‘I have to use the lavatory,’ he lied, leaving before Pansy made a bigger fool of him then he was probably doing already.</p><p>*</p><p>The scorching hot water burned his skin, as he ferociously scrubbed his hands. He didn’t care, they deserved to burn anyhow. Perhaps if he worked at it hard enough, the blood that stained his skin would wash right out.</p><p>He thought of Pansy. She was probably still with Weasley and Granger laughing about his affection for Potter. ‘He’s a lost cause,’ Pansy would say and they’d both nod in agreement. ‘The git never stood a chance,’ Weasley would tell them and Granger would admit that she’d lied, and Potter wasn’t out thinking about homework. ‘He’s fucking Smith as we speak, has been for weeks,’ she would say and they’d all chuckle and smile.</p><p>They were right; he never stood a chance. He never would.</p><p>‘<em>Malfoy</em>?’ a surprised voice asked and Draco turned around to tell them to<em> fuck off</em> before he froze.</p><p>‘They told me you were here, but I just <em>had</em> to see it for myself,’ Potter told him, a goofy grin spreading across his lips.</p><p>He stared at him expectantly, the bastard, his lips were pouted and chapped -  Granger was right, he <em>had</em> been fucking Smith.</p><p>‘Fuck off, Potter’</p><p>Potter stood up a little straighter, ‘I take it you’re not having any fun.’</p><p>‘What gave it away?’</p><p>He sighed, before coming down to stand next to Draco, his shoulder brushing against his. And in that moment the last shred of sanity he had left diminished because <em>Harry fucking Potter</em> was <em>touching</em> him. He repeats Harry Potter Saviour of the Wizarding World was<em> touching</em> him!</p><p>‘Ron told me that you’d stalked away a few moments ago.’ Potter took a deep breath, ‘the war’s over Malfoy, we don’t have to be rivals anymore. In fact, I think we could even be civil.’</p><p>The single word <em>civil</em> plummeted Draco’s heart, it landing with a broken<em> thud</em>.</p><p>‘I wouldn’t be too sure.’</p><p>‘Why do you hate me so much?’ Potter asked somewhat defeatedly.</p><p>Draco sighed before turning to face beautiful green eyes, ‘It’s not so much that I hate than I find you profusely irritable.’ He told him honestly.</p><p>‘Explain.’</p><p>He rolled his eyes because he’d forgotten he was talking to a child. ‘I merely just find you<em> insufferable</em> Potter,’ he said not wanting to speak about it further.</p><p>‘I wasn’t the only git if I remember correctly.’</p><p>‘No, you wasn’t.’</p><p>At least Draco had the balls to admit it.</p><p>They stood in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Potter spoke, ‘do you like cereal Malfoy?’ he asked eagerly</p><p>Did he<em> like</em> cereal? What kind of crapped-up, idiotically imbecilic question was that?</p><p>‘Yes.’ He answered simply.</p><p>‘Do you think that it’s soup?’ He questioned hesitantly. ‘Cereal, that is. Do you think that cereal is soup?’ he stammered out.</p><p>Well, now <em>that</em> was a new one. Draco opened his mouth to tell him <em>exactly</em> what he thought when he was abruptly cut off.</p><p>‘Wrong answer.’ Potter stated.</p><p>‘When did I even say anything, Potter?’ Draco asked him quite baffled and extremely confused.</p><p>Potter tutted, shaking his head defiantly, ‘Whatever you were going to say, you’re wrong,’ he declared proudly.</p><p>‘<em>Think</em> about it Malfoy. Soup is liquid based, so is cereal. Soup has many solid substances, so does cereal. You eat soup with a spoon, guess bloody what?’ he asked with a passion that Draco found disgustingly adorable.</p><p>‘So does cereal.’ He answered Potter begrudgingly, who nodded at him manically.</p><p>‘You <em>see</em>, soup is cereal and cereal is soup.’ He said in triumph.</p><p>Draco tutted, ‘you forgot about those who only eat plain cereal,’ he countered.</p><p>Potter’s face fell, ‘those people are sociopaths. Are <em>you</em> a sociopath Malfoy?’ he asked almost murderously and Draco was a tad bit scared.</p><p>He shook his head violently and Potter smiled a smile that lit up his entire face.</p><p>‘I’m glad, sociopath wouldn’t be a good look on you,’ Potter told him before he sighed, ‘I’m going back in, are you coming with?’</p><p>It would be extremely easy now to say yes. So easy, so probable that Draco felt terrified.</p><p>‘I don’t think my hands are clean yet,’ he gestured to his now bright red hands.</p><p>Potter stood there for a while more, his eyes flickering between Draco and his near enough burning hands, before taking a deep breath and walking out the door.</p><p>He felt like an idiot.</p><p>He felt so <em>fucking</em> weak.</p><p>Moments later, he heard the door open once more. Blaise leaned against the doorframe, an unreadable look dusting his features.</p><p>‘Let’s get you back to Pansy, yeah?’ He asked and Draco nodded not trusting himself to speak.</p><p>They ended up back in the common room, huddled up in a corner by the fireplace, their legs entwined, as they lent on one another for support. Music was still playing and the eighth years were still dancing. If anything, they were drunker than he’d ever seen them.</p><p>‘I told him I hated him.’</p><p>He couldn’t even get the words out; they were <em>that</em> painful. It was desperately obvious that he was head heels in love with Potter. How an<em> earth</em> had he managed to hide it for so long. How did he <em>still</em> continue to hide it?</p><p>Pansy rubbed a comforting hand on the small of his back, ‘oh darling, why <em>ever</em> would you do that?’</p><p>‘Because I couldn’t bloody well have told him I loved him,’ he snapped frustrated. ‘Excuse me Potter, I know I’ve been a complete git to you for years, but that was only because I loved you and your rejection broke me’</p><p>He felt his cheeks start to flare up as he gave his friend a glare, ‘how the <em>fuck</em> do you think that would’ve turned out?’</p><p>‘I’m sorry,’ Pansy said dejectedly and he knew that she was berating herself for not being able to fix it.</p><p>This wasn’t her fault. None of this was anyone’s fault but his own. <em>He</em> had treated Potter terribly for years. <em>He</em> had been bigoted and prejudice. He <em>continued</em> to treat Potter like dirt. Old habits die hard, right?</p><p>He gave her hand a small squeeze, ‘it’s not your fault,’ he whispered reassuringly.</p><p>‘Just so we’re all on the same page,’ Blaise chimed in, ‘we’re talking about Draco’s<em> disgustingly</em> sappy crush on the Boy Who Lived.’</p><p>‘No, you fool. We’re talking about his love for Ronald Weasley,’ Pansy glared at him, ‘<em>of course</em> we’re fucking talking about his love for Potter.’ She spat out.</p><p>Blaise smirked before turning to face Draco, ‘Good, good. That means that it’s of complete relevance when I tell you to get your head out of your arse.’</p><p>He narrowed his eyes, ‘<em>fuck off</em> Blaise,’ he growled.</p><p>‘Think about it Draco, you’re a good-looking bloke, I’m an <em>extremely</em> good-looking bloke, if you’d just let me into your pants then—</p><p>‘Shut the fuck up.’ Draco repeated.</p><p>Blaise put his hands up in surrender, ‘Okay, okay. All I’m saying is one magical night together and you’ll forget all—</p><p>‘If you like your balls, and I <em>know</em> you do, you’ll zip it,’ she murmured murderously, ‘I’ve been needing a new necklace anyhow. And I think they’d do <em>quite</em> nicely, even if they <em>are</em> a bit on the small side.’</p><p>Blaise shrieked covering up his crotch, ‘fine, I relent, I relent,’ he sighed out dramatically. ‘But seriously Draco you’re an unbelievingly good-looking dude, why are you wasting all your time mooning over Potter?’ he asked honestly.</p><p>Trust him, he asked himself that question every day. Why was Potter the last thing he thought about at night, and the first name on his lips each morning? What was<em> so</em> special about Potter that everyone else could hardly compare? Why had Harry Potter stolen the key to his heart, that he’d kept so strongly hidden?</p><p>He didn’t know. But what he did know was that, whenever he saw him nothing else mattered. If he spoke to him for even a moment, the world just <em>disappeared</em>. Whenever he was with him, he felt<em> free</em>… He wouldn’t give that up for the world.</p><p>When Draco didn’t answer Blaise grinned in triumph, ‘I always <em>knew</em> you fancied him,’ he told him boastfully.</p><p>‘I never<em> just</em> fancied him. He was everything from the moment I met him.’</p><p>And <em>there</em> it was – there was his answer. He didn’t spend his days mooning over Potter because he fancied him, nor because he was in love with him. No, he mooned over Potter because he was<em> everything</em>. That was a thought more terrifying than death.</p><p>‘Then we will do <em>anything</em> and <em>everything</em> to make sure he knows that.’ Blaise promised, and Pansy gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.</p><p>‘After all Potter—</p><p>‘Be <em>quiet</em>,’ Draco hissed at his friend, his eyes wide, his heart beating out of his chest.</p><p>Blaise rolled his eyes, ‘stop being so dramatic Draco, all I was saying that Potter was—</p><p>Draco elbowed him in the ribs. <em>Hard</em>. Quickly, he gestured to no other than Zacharias Smith who was walking confidently towards them.</p><p>He was the <em>last</em> person that Draco wanted to find out, the git was the biggest gossip in Hogwarts. Secrets were more or less safe unless they fell into the hands of one Zacharias Smith. When he found out it was over. It was<em> all</em> over.</p><p>‘Hullo Malfoy,’ he greeted him somewhat timidly, Draco nodded in return.</p><p>Smith gave him a small smile, looking at the ground which apparently was of great interest to him. ‘I was wondering if… maybe… you’d want to dance?’ he stammered out shyly, ‘with me,’ he added as an afterthought.</p><p>Draco blinked surprised. Smith wanted to dance with<em> him</em>? He could say yes. It would be frustratingly easy to say yes. To forget all his worries and enjoy himself for once.</p><p>‘Malfoy’s don’t dance,’ he replied instead.</p><p>Smith’s eyes widened, ‘are you sure?’ he persisted.</p><p>‘Malfoy’s don’t dance,’ Draco repeated curtly, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.</p><p>Before he could gather his bearings, Smith chucked what was left of his drink all over him, ‘You think you’re too good for me, huh?’ he spat angrily.</p><p>Draco could do nothing but squeeze his eyes tight and pray that no one had noticed. That it would all be over soon.</p><p>‘I’ll tell you one thing Malfoy, once a Death Eater, <em>always</em> a Death Eater. You should’ve gotten the kiss!’ he spat venomously, before all that could be heard were Smith’s retreating footsteps.</p><p>He opened his eyes, his vision hazy, his pulse beating erratically. It may have hurt, but it was what he needed to hear. Draco <em>was</em> a Death Eater. He’d made that choice a long time ago, and it was<em> his</em> burden to live with forevermore. </p><p>He stood up abruptly, Death Eater’s didn’t deserve nice things.</p><p>‘Draco…’ Pansy started worriedly. </p><p>Draco turned towards his friends, ‘I’m fine. I’m just going to—</p><p>Sentence unfinished Draco turned on his heel and made leeway to the one place where he could finally think.</p><p>Draco sat miserably on the small ledge, by the familiar window. He looked out into the distance; his mind trapped in many a thoughts. He watched intently as a single leaf fell from its place on the tree, swishing and dancing before it landed on the cold ground with a loud <em>thud</em>.</p><p>If Draco really dwelled over it, he could come to the conclusion that he was the leaf and the leaf was he. A leaf once full of so much life, the world at its feet as it believed that anything was possible. Now it lay silently on the ground, it’s wonder diminished, it’s hopes crushed, the life drained from its core.</p><p>Much like Draco and Hogwarts. He’d once been an overeager eleven-year-old, his dreams in the palms of his hands, optimism shining in his bright eyes, his heart full of hope. But soon, the light from his eyes had gone dark. He too, like the leaf, lay fallen on the ground, detached from a place he’d once considered his<em> home</em>.</p><p>‘Malfoy?’ a hesitant voice asked, and Draco ignored them in favour of melancholically gazing out of the window.</p><p>The silence remained for several moments and Draco was certain that they’d left when the ledge suddenly became quite claustrophobic. He looked up to tell whoever it was to<em> sod off</em> when he was met with the blazing green eyes of Harry Potter, because<em> of course</em> it was.</p><p>He said it anyway, ‘sod off, Potter,’ he spat unkindly before returning his gaze to the window.</p><p>‘Is this where you ran off to then?’</p><p>Draco, for a second, and a second it was, thought he was in some telepathic reality.</p><p>‘I don’t run, Potter. I walk briskly.’</p><p>‘Ah of course, how could I forget?’ he joked, taking a swing from the glass in his hand. Draco watched hungrily as a few drops rolled down his chin, sliding down his neck slowly. He felt his head grow heavy with want as he forced his gaze away.</p><p>‘What is it that you want?’ Draco asked him in which he hoped was a disinterested tone.</p><p>Potter snorted, ‘just trying to be a decent<em> fucking</em> human being for once,’ he huffed out and Draco’s eyes widened.</p><p>Was Potter<em> drunk</em>? He looked for the signs: <em><strong>swaying stance</strong></em>? Well, Potter was sitting, but he was swaying. Draco looked again, yes definitely swaying.<strong><em> Disorientated features</em></strong>? His glasses were askew.<em><strong> Talking to anybody out of the ordinary</strong></em>? Well, <em>considering</em> he was talking to Draco as if they were civil, he was going to go ahead and <em>tick</em> that box.</p><p>So, Potter was drunk. He was very, very drunk.</p><p>‘Ah, so the Boy Who Lived To Be Drunk,’ he attempted to joke.</p><p>Potter scowled, ‘Why d’you have to be such a git, Malfoy?’ he slurred, taking yet another swing from his glass.</p><p>Even when he attempted to joke, he still came across as an idiot. Which was yet another reason why he and Potter were very much incompatible.</p><p>‘Plus, that’s not true. I just drank a <em>bloody</em> lot,’ Potter informed him as if that were meant to make it any better.</p><p>Draco couldn’t help the eyeroll that escaped his grasp, ‘that’s what being drunk means, Potter.’</p><p>The curly haired menace smirked and him, wavering slightly. ‘Y’know what Malfoy, if being drunk means having a good time, then I guess I’m drunk,’ he declared quite happily.</p><p>Draco nodded absently, it not escaping his notice that many of the other eighth years were looking in their direction. He couldn’t blame them; they <em>were</em> an odd pair. Many expected Potter to be shacked up with some girl, her small, petite frame snuggled comfortably into his warmth. His tongue down her throat as they hardly came up for air, sucking, tasting, and exploring one another.</p><p>He knew that it was peculiar for Potter to be seen with someone like Draco. He <em>was</em> a Death Eater after all, he didn’t deserve Potter’s attention. He gathered all of that. So, he didn’t <em>need</em> to be the topic of their hateful glares, and gossip conversations. He didn’t need it at<em> all</em>.</p><p>Draco blinked, before he looked out on the sea of people – no one was looking.</p><p>Potter shot a smile his way and Draco was taken aback because he hadn’t expected Potter to be so nice. Potter and he had been somewhat<em> friendly</em>. They’d joked; they’d spoken civilly, and now they were sitting peacefully enjoying each other’s company. Pansy would never believe this.</p><p>‘You’re different Malfoy.’</p><p>‘How so?’ Draco asked immediately, his face starting to flush.</p><p>‘I’m not sure. You’re confusing. You talk to your friends like they’re real <em>fucking</em> people, as if they’re not your minions any longer.’ He told him honestly and Draco tried not to be offended. <em>Tried</em> the keyword here.</p><p>He shot Potter a glare, running a frustrated finger through messy locks.</p><p>‘They’ve never <em>been</em> my minions Potter.’ </p><p>Potter’s mouth opened in disbelief as he shook his head profusely. ‘Are you stark mad, Malfoy?’ he asked, ‘that has to be the barmiest thing I’ve ever heard. You were always looking down on them, telling them to do crap for you. It was the worst during sixth year, don’t you remember?’</p><p>Unwanted images of Draco’s sixth year filtered through his mind. It was the year where he had lost everything. His social standing, his innocence, his<em> life</em>. He’d originally carried out his task with pride, he thought that he was helping his father. Then the Dark Lord had threatened to kill his mother… it had all changed.</p><p>Draco had began running. He ran from the Dark Lord, he ran from his responsibilities, he bolted from his ghosts – from the person he used to be. He’d ran from it all.</p><p>Then Potter had started following him. And Draco was ecstatic if not a small bit irritated. For some absurd reason he’d believed that Potter<em> actually</em> liked him. That he actually<em> wanted</em> to spend time with him.</p><p>If Draco was in the Great Hall - Potter was there. If he was on the quidditch field - Potter made an appearance. If he was in the room of requirement - Potter was outside.</p><p>And then he had tried to kill him.</p><p>That’s when Draco knew. As he was slowly bleeding out, praying that that he would succumb to the darkness, he realised that he and Potter would never work. He’d been a gullible fool.</p><p>‘Maybe you only saw what you <em>wanted</em> to see,’ Draco snapped, as he brought his knees to his chest. ‘I however do not think that <em>you’re</em> in a place to say anything.’ He spat out immediately regretting his rash actions.</p><p>‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he huffed.</p><p>Draco shrugged, ‘I may have had minions, but at least they were and <em>still</em> are my friends.’ He gave Potter his ugliest glare, ‘at least<em> I</em> don’t have fans. They’re not your friends, you only have followers.’</p><p>‘What?’ Potter spat out dangerously.</p><p>He lent in closer, ‘You have fans. Not so much different to minions.’</p><p>It was out. What he’d always wanted to say but had never had the will too. Perhaps, he had some of Potter’s courage after all.</p><p>You see, Potter had people who admired him, who worshiped him, who wanted to <em>be</em> him. He didn’t have friends. Well, except for Weasley and Granger but they hardly counted. No, Potter had followers. People didn’t talk to him because they wanted to be his friend, they spoke to him because he’d survived an AK at birth and killed a crazed maniac.</p><p>Draco may have been a right git when he was younger, but at least the people that spoke to him didn’t <em>want</em> something from him. Indeed, he did have minions, but now… Now he had <em>friends</em>.</p><p>‘Sod off.’ Potter spat, sliding off the ledge landing with a loud<em> thud</em>. He turned around to face Draco, swallowing the last of his drink with one last <em>gulp</em>. </p><p>Draco glanced over at the many eighth years who had gathered round the fireplace in a circle. Shots of alcohol were sprawled between them, and they looked over to Potter and him expectantly.</p><p>He scoffed, ‘it appears that your<em> fans</em> are waiting,’ he spat.</p><p>‘I see that they are.’</p><p>Potter left. Draco sighed as he pushed himself off the ledge. All he wanted to do was curl up into bed with a good book. He’d tried to be Potter’s friend and he’d failed. <em>Miserably</em>. Now, all that was left to do was to forget this whole night had ever happened.</p><p>He and Potter would never click, and that was just fine. He’d come into this world alone; he’d exit it just the same.</p><p>‘Malfoy!’ a drunken voice called, stopping Draco in his tracks. He turned round to see Weasley smiling at him happily. ‘Come and play.’</p><p>Draco shook his head, ‘I don’t think so.’ He told him slowly.</p><p>Weasley narrowed his eyes at him in challenge, ‘two words:<em> Chicken Crime</em>.’</p><p>Well, it seemed as though Draco playing a game. A childish, mindless, idiotic, game. He took a deep breath; the night was <em>far</em> from over.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm afraid that I'd be classed as a sociopath if we're going by Harry's definition. Next chapter: drinking, games, wrackspurts, and... a dare?<br/>Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Really :) Is it good, bad? Should I continue or not?</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ah poor Draco! I'm not too sure about this fic yet, so comments and Kudos would be much appreciated.<br/>I also have another account: XoxoKy, go check it out!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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